


Before the Storm

by RunLikeRain



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunLikeRain/pseuds/RunLikeRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After arriving home to see Reg dead and Rick killing Pete, Aaron tries to process the events of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this about half an hour before Season 6, episode 2 aired, so I didn't realize it was going to be kind of prophetic. I may write a sequel of sorts if the muse hits me hard enough.

Aaron thought he might finally have reached the end of his tether. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been more exhausted, though he knew it was probably more mental than physical. Tracking potential recruits was always taxing, but then they'd set off that trap. He'd had a lot of close calls since the world went to hell, and even a few before, but he'd never been so sure he was about to die than when he'd been trapped inside that car with Daryl. And now, this. Tomorrow, he knew, things were going to be different. And there were a lot of people in Alexandria who weren't going to be able to handle that.  
  
He'd expected all hell to break loose, but most seemed incapable of doing anything. Reg and Pete's bodies were being carried off. Rick was leading Morgan away and Deanna was still sitting on the ground, staring blankly into the dark pool of blood that had gushed out of her husband's throat. Of the few who dared to approach her, none were acknowledged with so much as a blink. Most simply didn't try. Aaron closed his eyes at the sight, then took a deep steadying breath and opened them again. He thought he should go to her, try to help. They couldn't just leave her there, broken and alone.  
  
He took a step, but was stayed by a hand on his shoulder. Daryl, he noted.  
  
"Leave her be," he said, voice pitched low. "You can't do anything for her right now and she wouldn't thank you for trying."  
  
Aaron didn't respond right away, the list of things he could be doing to help out scrolling ceaselessly through his mind. "No," he began, "but I could--"  
  
"C'mon," Daryl said, taking him firmly by the arm and steering him away from the fire. "Only one person you gotta think about right now." Then he made a strange huffing sound that Aaron thought might be the Daryl Dixon equivalent of a laugh. "Well, maybe two."  
  
He followed Daryl's gaze and saw Eric slowly making his way towards them, delicately weaving his way through the scattered and abandoned chairs of the meeting as best he could, still slightly favoring his barely healed ankle.  
  
"Oh shit," Aaron said. "Eric." He hadn't even seen him, so transfixed by the scene before him that he hadn't taken note of who was actually there.  
  
He pulled away from Daryl's grip and started forward, stumbling in his exhaustion and haste. Daryl caught him easily before he managed to hit the pavement. "Take it easy," he said. "Between you falling everywhere and him practically on one foot I'll be out here all night trying to get you idiots home safe." He got Aaron solidly on his feet just as Eric reached them and threw his arms around Aaron.  
  
"Thank God you're back," he mumbled into Aaron's shirt.  
  
"You shouldn't have come," he said, holding Eric at arm's length, scanning for signs of any new injury. "You need to be resting, you're still injured, you--"  
  
"I was going to make sure they saw our side of it," Eric said. "You know, try to make them understand why we brought them. Never got the chance. You're better at this sort of thing than me, but you weren't here, so..."  
  
Aaron pulled him close, not caring about anything but breathing in the scent of Eric's hair until Daryl's soft voice brought him back to reality. "This is real sweet and all but I'm getting you both home right now, you're makin' everybody jealous."  
  
*****  
  
Aaron was usually very conscious of the amount of energy he consumed in Alexandria. Resources were relatively plentiful but not limitless, and his experiences in Africa meant that he was very good at getting by on little or no modern conveniences. It was his responsibility, he believed, to be as conservative as he could be. Usually.  
  
Tonight though, all thoughts of conservation, responsibility, and thrift were right out the window. He'd turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, filling the bathroom with steam even before he'd stepped in. He wasn't sure how long he stood in the spray, eyes closed, reveling in the feel of the water beating down on him, but it was surely longer than his careful nature would have normally allowed.  _Christ, I'm tired_ , he thought. And the day wasn't even over yet. Eric was going to want to know what happened. He deserved the truth, no matter how much Aaron didn't want to have to tell him. He sighed and started lathering himself up, anxious to get rid of the lingering smell of rot that he always felt clung to him after encountering roamers. Eric told him that he was imagining things, but if ever there was a day when it wasn't his imagination, today would be it.  
  
His hands slowed and he smiled, thinking of Eric.  
  
_The walk home had been quiet, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of Daryl's boots, the tapping of Eric's crutches, and the singing of crickets in the trees. It seemed impossible that a day like that could end in such a beautiful, peaceful night. But it did, and Eric's arm was wrapped firmly around his waist, and Aaron decided he'd take as many of these moments as the universe would allow him. When they reached their house, Eric turned to Daryl and gave him a small smile._  
  
_"Do I get a kiss goodnight, Daryl?"_  
  
_Both Daryl and Aaron stared at him, and Eric's smile broadened. "It's just, you walked us home. So gentlemanly! I just thought...you know."_  
  
_Aaron thought he detected a bit of strain in Eric's voice, though whether it was due to pain or to the insanity of the evening, he didn't know. He tried not to laugh while Daryl shifted around uneasily, looking up and down the street, at the ground, anywhere but at them. He was about to come to his rescue, explain that this was the sort of thing that Eric did when things were tense, but suddenly Daryl fixed an intense stare on Eric and crossed the distance between them in two steps and reached for him. For one wild moment Aaron thought Daryl really was going to kiss him, and he wasn't sure if he should be turned on or furious. Eric's face suggested he was thinking the same thing. Then Daryl stopped, mouth just inches from Eric's, and shook his head._  
  
_"Nah," he said, smirking. "Better not. Aaron's good people. I kiss you, you fall madly in love with me...nah. Wouldn't be right, stealin' his man away from him, and right under his nose like that, too." And then he was off down the street, leaving them both speechless. Aaron wasn't sure, but he thought there might have been a bit more swagger in Daryl's walk than he'd noticed before._  
  
_He really couldn't hold it in any more. Nearly doubled over with laughter, he managed to open the door and draw Eric inside. "Holy shit, he called your bluff. Sort of. I mean, I know we live in a world where the dead walk around trying to eat us, but that might have been the weirdest moment of my life. And why'd he walk us home anyway? Since when is he so protective?"_  
  
_Eric just shrugged. "I feel pretty honored, though. Daryl Dixon actually played a joke on us. He very nearly laughed, for Christ's sake." He looked at Aaron thoughtfully. "Although..."_  
  
_Aaron was taking his jacket off when Eric pulled him into a searing kiss, sending electricity sparking through his body and drawing a startled but appreciative groan._  
  
_"Yeah," Eric said when he finally broke away, "nothing's going to beat that. Dream on, Dixon." He smiled again. "Go take a shower, I'll heat you up something to eat."_  
  
Aaron's eyes had drifted shut again. The thought of that kiss sent shivers down his spine despite the heat of the water. Fully immersed in the memory of Eric's mouth on his, his hand slipped lower, soapy fingers wrapping around his cock. "Jesus," he breathed, gripping the tiled wall beside him. Eric was good at this, his hands clever and creative, and he could feel himself swelling under his own broader, clumsier fingers. Eric would press up against him, one hand deftly stroking him and the other in his hair, kissing whatever part of him he could reach: neck, chest, mouth, shoulders. He'd whisper things in his ear. Sometimes utter filth and sometimes beautiful and breathless declarations of love and devotion. It almost didn't matter, not when his voice was low and his breath was caressing his skin, and of course his use of those clever, clever hands.  And then, if Aaron was very lucky Eric would shift, start to slide down, kissing and nipping and licking and caressing every inch of him he could as he went, until his clever mouth took over for his clever hands, and Aaron was enveloped in soft, wet heat. He'd thrust up, unable to help himself, and he would feel the vibration of Eric's soft laugh more than he would hear it, and he would try to control himself because he didn't want to hurt him, and above all he didn't want him to stop. And of course, Eric wouldn't stop. He would touch him, stroke those slender fingers over his hips, his thighs, his belly, and if Aaron let him Eric would catch his hands and hang on, all the while using his mouth to keep Aaron incoherent, knowing just when to apply pressure, when to suck harder or softer, when to pull off for a moment and even when to scrape ever so slightly with his teeth in just the way he knew Aaron liked, that he knew would make Aaron cry out and fall to pieces at last.  
  
"Fuuuck," Aaron whispered, and came, leaning hard into the shower wall. He tried to swallow down the harsh, strangled sounds he was making, sure Eric would hear him and either think he was dying or recognize the sounds for what they were and be pissed off that he hadn't waited for him. For long moments he sagged into the wall, not trusting his own legs to hold him up just yet. Eventually he pulled himself together enough to rinse himself off. With shaking hands he turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and dried off, releasing a cloud of steam into the bedroom when he opened the door.  Eric had laid out a tshirt and his favorite pair of ratty old sweatpants -- one of the few things he had from before the turn and one of the few things he owned that Eric unequivocally hated -- lying on the bed. It was a sign of how worried he was, Aaron knew, and he was oddly touched. He pulled them on, forgoing the t-shirt, and headed downstairs.  
  
Eric was in the kitchen, wearing his own version of the sweatpants/t-shirt combo he'd left for Aaron. He'd taken something out of the oven and was in the process of spooning it out onto plates. Aaron leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, watching him for a moment.  
  
"Hey," he said.  
  
"There you are," Eric said without turning. He opened a drawer and pulled out two forks. "I was starting to worry you'd drowned yourself up there, I was going to--" he broke off as he turned, plates in hand. "Well now," he said. He put the plates down on the counter and looked him over, a slow smile spreading on his face. "Aren't you a sight." He walked up to Aaron and ran his fingers down his chest, pulling teasingly at his waistband. "You know your boyfriend is hot when he looks good even in moth-eaten old rags like these things."  
  
"They aren't moth-eaten," he replied, "just a little frayed at the hems."  He pulled Eric close and kissed him, slow and deep. "You kiss like fire. Anyone ever tell you that?"  
  
"No, but I like that," Eric said, breath hitching slightly as Aaron shifted his attention to the soft skin of his neck. "Feel free to tell me as often as you want."  
  
Aaron barely heard him. The feel of Eric's hands in his hair, still damp from the shower, and the smell of his hair and the taste of his skin were all too distracting to be able to form any kind of coherent reply. Then his stomach rumbled, and Eric pulled away laughing. "Come on, Carol brought me a casserole this morning. Said I shouldn't be on my feet."  
  
He turned and picked up the plates, but Aaron took them from him before he could do anything. "You shouldn't. Go sit down, get that foot elevated, and I'll take care of this stuff."  
  
"Babe, you're exhausted. Anyone can see that. I'm fine, I can--"  
  
"I am exhausted, so don't fucking argue with me, okay?" There was a moment of silence. Eric, however, just raised his eyebrows and limped over to the table. Aaron could feel his gaze on him as he poured wine and served dinner. He sat down opposite and tried to eat, but wasn't two bites in before he put down his fork and rubbed his hands over his face.  
  
"Christ, Eric. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that."  
  
Eric reached over and took his hand. "Eat. We'll talk later."  
  
****  
  
It felt so good to sleep in a real bed. Aaron had always loved camping and sleeping out under the stars and that hadn't changed even when the world went to hell. But one of the best things about it was coming home, crawling into a clean bed with clean sheets, and sturdy walls between him and the bugs and the dirt and the dead. He moaned in pleasure as he settled in beside Eric.  
  
"This feels like heaven," he said, and turned his head to smile at Eric. "And you look like heaven. You know, I was having some very naughty thoughts about you in the shower earlier."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Eric smiled, but he looked troubled.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He hesitated. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it. But I need to know what happened. You're not yourself and it's not just that you're tired. I've seen you running for three days on five hours of sleep. And you never snapped at me like you did tonight."  
  
Aaron sighed and turned away, staring at the ceiling. Here it was, and there was no use trying to put it off. "Daryl and I got trapped. There was a guy, and we were watching him, and we lost him. And we found some trucks. I thought they might be filled with food. Canned goods, you know. I talked Daryl into checking it out. But it was a trap. We opened a trailer, and it was rigged to open all the others, and they were all full of roamers. Dozens of them. We managed to get into a car, and we were surrounded. I thought--" he looked at Eric, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "I thought we were going to die. Daryl and I were going to try to make a run for it, but there were so many. I didn't think we had a chance. I was about to die and all I could think of was that you'd be alone. And you wouldn't know what had happened to me. And Daryl was going to die and it was my fault."  
  
Eric had taken one of his hands, and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. "But you didn't, and Daryl didn't."  
  
"Morgan--the guy we brought in tonight--he showed up. Out of nowhere. God damn staff-wielding superhero," Aaron replied with a shaky laugh. "He got us a chance. I think he knows Rick. I mean, what are the odds? But I lost my pack. The one with all the pictures. Whoever set that trap knows about us now, and that scares the hell out of me."  
  
"They have pictures, that's all."  
  
"It wouldn't be that hard to find. They'd have to know we weren't far. What if they come? You're injured, you can't run. And the people here..." he shook his head. "The people who set that trap are the same people who left a woman tied to a tree for the roamers to eat. What chance do the people here have? Rick and his people, they've seen terrible things. Daryl's told me a little but not even close to everything. They don't get scared. But I do."  
  
Eric leaned over Aaron and kissed him. "If they come, we'll do whatever we need to do. This isn't your fault."  
  
"But it is, I--"  
  
"If they were that close they'd have found us eventually anyway. And we wouldn't know about them. Don't you worry about me. You think I can't run? Let someone try to hurt you, and you watch me run."  
  
Aaron rested a hand against Eric's cheek. He was still terrified of what would come from that day, but talking had eased the burden, just a little. "I love you," he said.  
  
Eric smiled. "Love you too."  
  
"Hey, I found an Alaska plate. But I lost it. Killed a roamer with it." He grinned. "Felt pretty badass there for a minute, too."  
  
"My license plate wielding superhero." Eric kissed him again. "Now, didn't you say something about having naughty thoughts in the shower?"  
  
"I may have, yes."  
  
"Interesting. Now, you can tell me about _that_."  
  



End file.
